Willpower

On March 20th, 2020, I broke almost a year of sobriety with a glass of whiskey, and I thought I had failed at everything I had worked up to.

In March 2019, I lost my job, I lost the company I had started, and I felt like I lost myself.

I also lost my therapist because as nice as therapists are, she wasn't going to listen to my problems for free.

In May of 2019, I was at a bar having a beer with my friends, like I did most nights of my funemployment, when I looked at my drink and asked myself, "why?”

"What did this add to my life?”

"Why did I turn to alcohol to feel happy when it's never made me feel good?”

"Why was I at this bar with people I don't like, doing something I didn't want to do, trying to be someone I'm not?”

Capitalism.

And like most nights, I stopped thinking and kept drinking.

But when I got home, I made a deal with myself: go one year without drinking to see what my life could look like sober, and after that, I could drink however much I wanted to.

Because I'm Type-A person who had put all of my energy into my career and none into my own self-care, I did what all tech CEOs do: I conducted zero research and did not think about any of the consequences.

At first, I hid my decision from everyone by sipping on seltzer any time I was out. What I couldn't hide from myself was that I was going through the worst withdrawal I had ever experienced in my life.

I had terrible headaches.

I was constantly exhausted.

And worst of all, I did not look as cool holding a La Croix at parties.

But within a few months, I started looking lighter and feeling fuller. That is, after I stopped mainlining Mexican Coca-Cola every day to deal with the withdrawal.

Once I got the hang of sobriety, I start telling people, "I don't drink." Like with most activities that require basic consent, it was very easy for me to make people visibly uncomfortable by telling them I didn't want to do something.

One friend created a story in his mind that I blacked out and hit rock bottom, which wasn't entirely wrong. I hit rock bottom when he tried to recruit me for his life-coaching cult.

Another friend once offered me a drink, and when I said, "no, thanks," he said, "bitch, what?" and raised his hand with the universal sign for, "I'm about to slap you.”

Another friend told me, "if you needed to stop drinking, then there must have been something wrong with you.”

This time was hard for me because a lot of my friends died. To be clear, they're all alive. They're just dead to me.

Because of all the, "why don't you just have one drink?"'s and the, "you won't stay sober for long"'s, I was in a dark place and doubted if I could keep the deal I made with myself.

Why was I doing this?

Was there something wrong with me?

What is White Claw?

I found light when my friend Natalie asked me, "did you drink because you needed to dim your light for other people?”

Isn't it crazy that you can find the right answers in life by being asked the right questions?

I drank because it numbed my pain, but it also numbed my joy.

I drank because I thought I was too much for people, but abundance isn't something I should keep to myself.

I drank because I thought my light was too bright to be embraced by others.

That light helped me stay the course on my sobriety until the pandemic hit New York City.

On March 21st, 2020, I realized failure wasn't straying off-course; failure would have been staying off-course.

I decided, again, that I was no longer going to drink, and I'm proud to say that I haven't had a drink since then.

The people who expected me to fail couldn't change my story.

The people who didn't respect my boundaries around alcohol were the same people who didn't respect my boundaries, period.

The people who understood, supported, and loved me when I was changing are the people I hold closest to my heart.

By staying sober, I found my people, I found my passions, and most importantly, I found myself.